Sometimes when I lay awake at night, like tonight, surrounded by the soft chrips of crickets hiding in the grass and the bright moonlight that comes in from my window, glinting across the wind chimes that hang on my air vent, I hear her giggle.
Her laugh cuts through me, deeper than any blade could ever hope to. My heart beat slams, pounding and pounding into my chest as if I'm running a marathon. I close my eyes, squeezing them together as tight as possible, blocking off any sources of light and painful memories. Her breath dances across my cheek, warm and smelling faintly of cherry popcicles. She whispers softly into my ear, her angelic voice laced with love. "Come play with me Kaylee!"
I'm transported back to a time when my world was an alright place to live in, where the weather was bright and sunny, and our masks that concealed every flaw hadn't yet cracked. My family, made up of my dad, mom, and my younger sister and I, were spending the summer at our beach house. The air was cool, the sun peaking through the blue sky dotted with cotton, and everything was perfect. My little sister was running through the beach, kicking up sand as her small skinny legs dashed over sea shells. She beckoned me to follow her but after I stayed still where I was, watching her prance about, Emma whipped her head of short chin length blonde hair around and pleaded, "Come play with me Kaylee! It's so much funner with you!" I ran to catch up with her, laughing and holding out my hand. "Funner isn't a word." She shrugged, biting her lip and we both continued to run across the beach, shrieking as waves crashed into our feet.
Back then, everything had been perfect. Or rather, as close to perfection as something can be. I shudder, snapping open my eyes and letting out a deep breath when I see she's not there anymore.Thank god.
I run a hand through my sweaty, tangled blonde hair and twist it off of my neck. My eyes catch on my wrist, peering closer to gaze at the pale lines that run across. My finger lightly traces each and every one, stopping on the last. Why? OH MY GOD, WHY? A deep shudder racks through my body and I start to retch, clutching my stomach as I run to the toliet. I lean over the bowl, vomit coursing out of my mouth into the water below. Afterwards, I sink down on the white tiled floor, pushing my cheek against the ground to gain cool relief.
I am forever haunted by my little sister.
My dead little sister.
* Thanks everybody for reading! The picture on the right is Kaylee.*
YOU ARE READING
Suicide Games
أدب المراهقينA group of fourteen year old girls are so depressed and isolated from their peers outside of their clique that they come up with a way to get back at their bullies and see what it's like to almost kill themselves: the Suicide Games. But when one of...
